


Revivals and Offerings

by KadeJaneStoker



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Body Horror, F/M, Horror, I am gonna add more tags as this goes along, Just getting all my tags out there, Nausea, Other, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Second Chances, Supernatural - Freeform, cosmic horror, decapitation mentioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KadeJaneStoker/pseuds/KadeJaneStoker
Summary: Revival:noun1.restoration to life, consciousness, vigor, strength, etc.Offering:noun1.something offered in worship or devotion, as to a deity; an oblation or sacrifice.2. Anything offered as a gift.A second chance allows Aisha to live before she died. Living in a world of revival, things have changed significantly. Memories become part of a chaotic revival.  What kind of offerings will it take to avoid her death? The physical? Or intimate?
Relationships: Aisha (Saints Row)/Johnny Gat
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. How To Feel Lovely Like A Bitch

Death was infinite and unknown. It was inevitable and it came for all like did for Aisha Roberts. Decapitated was a horrid death for anyone but more so for the one who called for their lovers knowing they’ll die. Death was supposed to be an afterthought, where you would go to heaven for the saints, or hell for the sinners. 

But what was Aisha? She was loved and she led a successful career, but she loved a devoted killer and she hung with saintly sinners. Gang life was what she was born into, and she saw many things a woman should never see. If anything Heaven and Hell was the domain she should’ve fallen into.

But instead, as she laid in a white pond of bright purple lotus under a pitch-black sky, she was in a new domain. Yet she didn’t know, as she slowly opened up her eyes. She didn’t know why she felt her head and her body connected again. She slowly sat up and found herself in a gown of gold and white embroidered with eyes and geometric teeth all on her sleeves and her ribcage embroidered by gold. Upon looking in the reflection, a crown of thorns was hovering over her akin to a halo of a saint. She was restored to her younger state evident by her dreadlocks draping down her shoulders, no longer cut.

“My sweet,” Crooned a hoarse raspy voice toned in sorrow. Aisha looked up and gasped. The voice was a human woman’s but the shape it belonged to, belonged to no woman. Gazing down at Aisha, was the skull of an owl whose beak was dipped in obsidian. Pooling from its sockets was gold akin to tears. The liquid gold streamed down from its skull and fell into white water, upon contact became the hydrangeas the two were surrounded by.

The owl’s head was devotedly attached to a human skeleton, and the upper half was scantily exposed save for a veiled cloak, whose pattern could only be described as the veining of a butterfly’s wings. Her bones were coated in the same obsidian but veined in gold all over, continuing down her spine and to her leonine legs. The skull had no emotion to show, but her voice was of sorrow, and she towered over her, possibly taller than Johnny.

“My sweet, how you’ve suffered. How cruel fate became to you, taking you away,” She sorrowfully said as she reached out with her spidery fingers. Aisha hesitated, slightly drawing back. The entity was damningly terrifying, yet all she conveyed was of no means to harm her. If anything, the sorrow and her gestures were trying to only comfort the dead woman. The entity only tilted her head.

“I died, didn’t I?” Aisha whispered, yet her words echoed in the pond and in the sky. 

“Yes, My sweet,” The entity sorrowfully answered. “The dragon’s claws killed you, and took you away from the living.”

The entity reached out for her again, and this time Aisha allowed her. With the entity’s spindly hands caressing the side of her cheek before it trailed up and tucking one of her locks behind Aisha’s ear. The entity, taller and possibly stronger, could rip her to shreds with the swipe of her claws. But in every movement, in the gold drippings, the entity was trying its damn hardest to be gentle with Aisha.

Aisha knew damn well who the entity was talking about as emotions filled her throat. The Ronin, and that damned Jyunichi. It all came flooding back to her, the intruders, the assassin that killed her, and Johnny’s name is the last thing on her lips. A thin ring of ice now burned on Aisha’s neck as she remembered her tragedy, now realizing her death. Gold tears from her cheek now dripping on the side of her face as she spills her emotion. The droplets fell to the water, and instead of hydrangeas, the tears blossomed into the roses that her devoted Johnny once gave her, red white and yellow roses that stand out against the bright violet hues of the hydrangeas.

Aisha would’ve crumbled to the pond on her hands, but the entity caught her and held her close to her own ribs. Aisha continued to sob and wail, wailing for the loss of her life, for her friends and her Johnny. She didn’t want to leave them, and she never had any intention to do so cruelly. She didn’t want to die young, and now may never die old, leaving a legacy of children or wedded. It wasn’t fair and fuck fate for being so cruel.

The entity was silent, cradling her and rubbing the back of Aisha’s head. Within the mausoleum of her obsidian bones, there was no heartbeat, but only the sound of the rain. The two were strangers, yet sorrow was a shared factor. After what seemed like an eternity, Aisha slowly pulled away, trembling and sniffling. The entity, slowly pulled away giving the young woman space as she collected her tears.

The roses did not escape Aisha’s notice. If anything, she was drawn to the memory of them, to that life, her life. And now questions began to arose in Aisha’s mind as she turned to the entity once more.

“Who are you and why the hell am I here?” The question left her lips trembling from the aftermath of her cries. But she stares hoping for answers.

The entity is silent. Though she took no offense, it didn’t show in her hollow sockets that pooled with the gold down her bones. She paused and looked down at the white water before turning to Aisha.

“Many people have given me names for the many shapes I have taken. A devourer, a savior, benevolent and malevolent. Destroyer and Creator, a god and a devil. Warrior and diplomat. I am many of these things and so much more. I am the one who cries and rages for the women and children lost. For unnecessary wars and corrupt men I spill their blood with the very sadism they show to the innocents. They have called me Athena, Kali, Ishtar, and Mut to name a few,” She honestly declared. As two lilac-colored orbs began to fill her once hollow sockets, burning away at her golden tears. There was pride in her raspy voice, all of these things she was proud of her nature over. The nature of cosmic horror, fragmented in this complicated reality, and many more to raise and destroy.

But Aisha did not know this. Instead, she could only listen as her eyes widened in concern.

“But in this shape I take and in the domain, we reside in, I am called Cariformes. Though Cari is an acceptable name you may refer me to.”

Aisha was somewhat horrified by all these titles and the bluntness in Cari’s answer. Some of the names were unfamiliar, but Kali was a name she was familiar with. A woman ready to go on a warpath and take many heads as she wanted. In a sense, the living embodiment could be Johnny.

She was being truthful, at least she hopes she was. Cari continued as she stood up, her attention towards the starless night that cascaded over them. 

“I pulled you here, for I have watched your life as I have done with many souls, and frankly, such a death is undeserving to you. I wish to offer you a second chance, at taking your life back,” She offered as she reaches towards the sky.

Holding one finger, she swipes to the sky in one motion, and it shattered into multiple fragments. These fragments were like mirrors to the world of the living. Every fragment showcased every event. From her death to others that came before. She sees her killer murdered by the Boss of Saints Row. She sees the very people who ordered it suffer death too. She sees old members die and new ones joining. She sees the Saints fighting a giant soda mascot and other odd things that don’t make sense. 

What does make sense was seeing her earth die at the hands of alien greed. The one called Xinyak took him away and locked him in stasis. The worst part? Johnny is forced to relieve her death. Over. And Over and over and all over again. What a horrid kind of cruelty to bestow, it was a slow death of the mind. Johnny was horrid in some areas, but never did he deserve to watch her die over and over. Anything but that was the last thing he ever deserved.

“Though it didn’t ask for an early grave, your earth is just as sacred as the blood in your veins. This...Filth,” She spat as the images of a pale alien with blackthorns shone on all of the fragments. “This wretched filth, had no right to destroy it, as it has done with many others in your universe.”

“Others?” Aisha asked.

“Yes, not my point. My point is that I can give you the power of choice. The choice to go back and prevent it along with your death,” She announced as she glanced down. “Back to him.”

The fragments cease to have Zinyak's image, and all of them change into Johnny Gat. Aisha’s heart stopped. Their torrid and stubborn natures were often a problem, but at the end of it all, she loved him no matter what. Even if her last breath was blessed with an act of love. She looked back up at Cariformes.

“What will I owe you? If it means being back on a leash, I’m not interested.”

“No leash, none. You will owe me nothing,” Cariformes informed her. She wanted nothing physical or Faustian. She was contempt with nothing in return, but unknown to Aisha, ulterior motives often came in the form of kind acts. If anything, she wanted to give everyone a chance. A beautiful chance that added to the wonderful chaos Aisha’s world had to offer. The kind of chaos that was the most pleasurable to watch on TV with a glass of wine in hand.

Glorious Chaos.

Aisha was deep in thought. The chance to avoid her death? Without anything in return? It seemed like a trap, but if it was, it would be worth it for her Johnny shining in the fragments of the sky. To give him a chance of being freed in the labyrinth of her death, to give each other a happy ending when there was no chance in her past life? Johnny Gat may be an Asshole, but he was forever her asshole.

She looked up at Cariformes, with quiet determination. “I’ll take your offer.”

The horror stared into her very soul with her orbs. This woman had seen much in her life. Here she was staring the horror back with determination. Willingly agreeing to go back and relieve most of it. Silently, Cariformes raised both hands to the sky. 

The fragments of Johnny disappear.

Colors of vibrant red, yellow, green, blue, and purple begin to bleed in the sky, marbleizing and swirling to Cariformes’ hands, where it dripped profusely from her fingertips. Aisha could stay, but she couldn’t help but be rendered with fear. Her whole body began to tremble as she could only watch the power that Cariformes held in her hands.

Cariformes having sensed this, looked down, as the golden tears began to form once more.

“My sweet,” She assured her as she knelt down. “It will be alright, my sweet.”

Her words were comforting, as she reached out for Aisha. “It will not hurt my sweet. It will be only like a--”

Cariforme and the world were gone in an instant the moment Aisha shot up in her bed, gasping. She reached for her heart, and for her neck. All of it was still in place, and Aisha Roberts was alive once more, and still remembered everything, even her death.

Alive, in Stilwater, where it is now morning. Aisha turned to her clock, and her eyes widened upon the date: November 13, 2003. 

Six years before she died.


	2. Back up before you Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisha still trying to reconcile her present past, only to meet a familiar face and discovers something odd.

It was far back. Six years before she died. Aisha’s breathing trembled and wavered because Cariformes just brought her back to life. No longer was she in the water with flowers, but she was in her old room with the same beat-up posters of Beyonce and Prince among other artists. Everything underneath her fingertips was real, even the thin bedsheets she was currently gripping. Back to before it was unfathomable, why four years? 

The sea of questions only led to a piercing sudden headache. Right in the center of her mind, an agonizing pain that suggested maybe not dwell on such machinations. Wincing, Aisha fell back to her bed. For a couple of seconds, the headache lingered until it slowly faded. She sighed and looked back at the clock. 

2006\. That’s a year before she signed on with the Vice Kings. Looking back now, the vice kings were a complete joke, completed by her naivety that led to her first prison. To be freed from it, she had to fake her death with Johnny and the Boss’s help, leading to her second and final prison in the form of her house. Trapped within her home was more along the lines of being trapped in a coffin. Unable to move or rest easy, unable to move anywhere in the day or night, to be free in the city she called part of her roots. 

But it was in this year she tried bringing the verses she used to scrabble onto napkins and scrapped pieces of paper to life in the form of music. One of the few things that brought her joy was music. Either listening to the kings and queens of music or fantasizing about becoming one of the music royalty for generations upon generations to come. And when she entered royalty, she’d be on a throne away from the slums and away from the violence that claimed so many of her family.

“Hey Eesh, you up?” A young voice called out in the apartment. One that Aisha knew very well.

“Yeah Monica I’m up,” She answered as she slowly sat up again. A dull throbbing now danced in her head, and there was no way laying down was gonna help it. But that didn’t matter, cause hearing Monica’s voice made it somewhat better now. Monica was her little sister, and one of her only family left.

She had many aunts and uncles from both sides of their mom and dad. Unfortunately, mom and dad bless their ashes that sit in the living room, died in a hit and run by a drunk driver. Monica was only an infant when they were moved from family member to family member. All were lost to either gang violence, alcohol, or drugs. Sometimes they overlapped, or it was just the one thing gradually that built their coffins.

After some time, Aisha had enough and raised Monica while holding down jobs. Holding bars and waitressing were her big things. But she didn’t regret it, and she wouldn’t regret it now. Because Monica was her first fan, and her first supporter, and continued to be after she died. 

Slowly, Aisha rose, taking care not to exacerbate the headache.’ “What’s up?” Aisha called back taking in the surroundings all over again. Her room was all neat and tidy, save for the huge basket of laundry in the corner. The bathroom was just a couple of steps away down the hall. This was fortunate, cause she needed the painkillers stored in the mirror. 

As she stood up, she could feel her bones popping like they often did and walked over, opening the door. Immediately she was stared back by her reflection. She really was back five years, and her youth showed it. Such vibrant eyes stared back at her, her dark eyes that were almost like obsidian. She had her dreads, laced with the gold and silvers throughout every lock, reaching past her clavicle.

But one horrid thing contrasted her youth and her shot happiness: A thin ring of scarring that her neck claimed permanent residence. A reminder. A warning. A chance.

All of this and more. So much more. A frown paints itself on her face as she looks at it. The headache begins to return, and Aisha opens the cabinet where its contents included hair gel, brushes, and her deserving painkillers. It took a couple of seconds to get reacquainted, given she hadn't been in this apartment in forever. But she found it in the top corner, where it was always hard to reach and therefore hard to take so easily, so much so she had to stand on her tippy toes.

When she closed the mirror, she was greeted by piercing green eyes, with the lights beginning to flicker. She flinches back, scampering away from the bathroom. Only then did the lights stop flickering as she stands shocked.

“You want pancakes?” Monica asked, standing in Aisha’s doorway. Like Aisha, she was still in her pajamas but had her sleep cap still on. She was younger, but Aisha made sure to teach her basic care needed as an adult. When living alone was always a possibility when you lived in Stilwater, sometimes you'll have to give someone the tools to live early on. Though there was a plus, given that Monica loved to eat pancakes and could now make them anytime she wanted, especially on a Saturday. However, she could notice that Aisha wasn’t entirely well. “Hey, you ok?”

Aisha looked at her as her eyes returned to their normal hues. She rubbed the back of her head, sighing. “I'm fine, I’ll have some pancakes. That sounds nice.”

Her younger sister tilted her head. “You sure you ok, Eesh?”

Aisha could only nod and paint a fake smile. “I’m fine don’t worry, it’s just a headache. Gonna take some meds for it, see?”

She reassured her by holding up the painkillers and shaking them once. While it was a partial truth, it was also a partial lie. A lie that hid the unknown nature that Aisha had now become. Monica nodded, satisfied with her answer, left the doorway, and walked back to the kitchen. Aisha sighed in relief.

And so it began. But for now, the first thing Aisha was gonna do in her second chance? Have some pancakes. She missed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok somehow I got another one done. And somehow Aisha's got herself some powers, but how far do they extend?
> 
> Also, I'm going by the official year she died in via the obituary I found on the official wiki so I hope that's fine. Fun fact, the green and the electric (Cyber too) is an homage to The Matrix. Fun times.
> 
> Be sure to drink plenty of water, eat something today and I'll see you guys next time!


	3. Greatness Starts With Scrubs, But Nostalgia Will Take You Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisha tries to find answers, only to find a choir, while a newcomer finds the path with obstacles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the late update! I have an update that I will detail at the end of this chapter. Right now though, I'd like to give a big shout-out to @MegaFreeman for helping me edit and fix a couple of things for this chapter.
> 
> And now on with the show!

Two things made Saturdays the best: Knowing Aisha wouldn’t have to go on any shifts, and that pancakes were sweet. Though this was all the much sweeter knowing that she was alive. Alive to enjoy this. To exist again and to enjoy the simplest things.

Yet now, things were not as simple. Being back had new rules that Aisha needed to figure out. The eyes and the flickering were a new one. Did she get sent back with powers? Like some goddamn superhero or John Stewart. Why? So many whys were formulating in Aisha’s brain, electrifying every thought she had. But it’s not like she had Cari’s phone number, otherwise, she’d be buzzing her texts to no end. Though even if she tried, Aisha had a feeling that the horror would stop answering. Which led to her first plan, going to the library.

She needed to go because of those names that Cariformes mentioned. Kali was a name she knew, only because of the Hindu community that lived in the apartment complexes near hers. But the others? Athena, Ishtar, and Mut were out of the goddamn ballpark. She mentioned who she ‘fought’ for, but it wouldn’t hurt to see at least what aspects led to Cariformes becoming such names.

And she needed to see the city again. To see what remained the same if anything changed. So she left the apartment after breakfast wearing a hoodie, some shorts, and boots. The saints didn’t exist yet, and this much she knew from her wardrobe. She could never forget those vibrant purples the saints devoured as their own. How in spite of gang colors looking so fucking tacky, she ended wearing them with much pride in her previous youth. Even if she was chained to the gold of the Vice Kings.

But a determination burned through Aisha as she strode down the sidewalk. She knew she was never going to do that shit never again. Screw it, if she was sent back six years, then it was for many reasons that Cari may not have been privy to disclose. Aisha was building up a fucking storm in her reincarnated brain, and it involved never signing with such a swine-like group like the vice kings ever again. She was formulating so many ideas, remembering the much smaller indie studios that she overlooked.

Perhaps a small detour to the office store was probably needed. She had many plans now that she was alive again and it was probably a good idea to--Wait. She stopped. She was alive. Alive and breathing. It was unfathomable as such realization kicks, causing her to stop in her tracks. Though, not so much of a kick as it was a harsh nudge in her rib cage

The soul Aisha Roberts was alive. Breathing, and walking in the streets in her intact body. She was walking in her home, the roots that made her and the very roots that killed her. If anything she wanted to scream in joy and dance around. She shook those thoughts out of her head. Nobody else knows about that, and the events haven’t happened. She hasn’t even met any of the key players. Hell…

She hadn’t even met Johnny yet. And a hollowness began to fill her heart.

Johnny...She didn’t know where he was at this point. From what she recalled though, he went to a different school, so they never had a chance to really kick it off as many rumors hissed about. Nah, they met in one of the dance clubs downtown. She remembered it so vividly, the lights drowning their skins in the artificial chromatic suns of all colors. Dancing in a sea of flesh until they bumped into each other oh so accidentally. That was when they met when they first locked eyes and just danced the night away and into his bed.

Between that and the consumption of each other’s flesh, they were as passionate as the storms scarring the earth. They were young and stubborn as the tumultuous seas constantly crashing against the rocks hoping to kiss the land and remind them of their immortal devotion. It was in this chaos that two stubborn forces often clashed, rested away from each other’s catalysts, only to remember why they fell in love with each other’s powerful natures.

But Aisha should’ve known they were more. Even if he never showed it in the beauty of her standards. Johnny wasn’t like anyone she ever met. He, who knew places familiar to him, never trying to stay out of his comfort zone. But at the same time, he brought her into his comfort zones many, many times, often in the form of Freckle Bitches. Looking back now, she should’ve done the same and so much more, she should have told him that she wanted to bring him into her comfort zone.

But she can’t. Aisha can’t do any of that. If she sought him out now what would she tell him? That they were together in another life? That she died and left him behind, but she took on the offer of a skull-headed deity to come back to this life? Just so she could avoid her death and stay with him, lest he fell into the despair and personal hell? To stay as his anchor forevermore and hold him away from the dark chasm of agonizing rage? No, he’d think her a crazy bitch, and nobody would believe someone like her. So for now, Aisha would keep this under lock and key. 

But even then, how long will it take for the key to open the lock?

She pondered on this as she finally entered the home supplies store, immediately diving into the notebook section. How nostalgic she felt looking at all the vivid Lisa Frank designs. She never really had one of those. Bright, popsy cute little animals with their innocent eyes. All in various shapes and sizes for planners to just spirals. Though one caught her eye: A small one, with chromatic rainbow butterflies with a purple background. The butterflies reminded her of Cariformes and her kalasiris like clothing. Yet it elicits strong memories of the limbo and of the cosmic chance given to her by an ancient goddess.

Which brought her to her next order of business. After buying the notebook, she left that store immediately and caught the next bus to the block near the library. How odd it was, to remember everything about this city like it was yesterday, even though it's been years since she died. How she remembered the same people that walked these streets. In her past life after her past death, some of the youth probably had families by the time the invaders with black thorned crowns killed the earth. And the older voices would’ve already been in the grave, with the ashes and bones reduced to the sweet nothing to the basic levels of eternal invisible matter, awaiting their atoms to be reignited the first explosion of time.

But not yet. Not yet. Not while Aisha still lived.

She hopped right out of the bus after paying, jogging towards the library, making sure to look both ways while crossing the street. When Aisha entered the library, she was hit with the smell of old books. How did all these archives of knowledge come into the small spined pages, keep that smell...wait… it wasn’t always this amplified. Was that another skill? Fuck...Aisha pushed it in the back of her mind. 

She signed out her time and sat down at one of the computers. Aisha started to wait for it to boot up. Which was honestly so fucking boring at times. But in the meantime, she made a little list of what to avoid in 6 years.

It was simple, don’t let the money come to her home, and let nobody see the body disposed of. Was it that simple? Probably not, but she’d detail it later as the computer chimed and awaken. But to her alone, she heard singing. It was...hard to describe. It was automated, yet it had a beat akin to the ticking of clocks. A low hum of automatic vocals accompanied by a synthetic beat. Looking around, Aisha realized that it came only from the computer. And then, the headache washed over her again. 

The lights began to dim and flicker again overhead. But the computer was another story. The computer screen was a strikingly black screen but green numbers of zero and dark angular branches began to vein the screen. The very green that her eyes were this morning. 

Alarm spread onto her face as she grew worried that someone would see, frantically tried to cover the screen with her hands and her jacket. Her fingertips barely graced over the screen and the singing erupts into a rapturous orchestra. Once, she was in the library filled with knowledge trapped in paper. But now? She was swimming in seas of green of infinite zeros and raw knowledge. The age of tech was rising, and she could hear the revolution singing. 

The knowledge became a choir to the rapture, as it spilled all of its knowledge onto Aisha. 

The names of the gods were revealed. Ishtar, the name flashes in its natural cuneiform. An ancient, paganistic goddess, she was the patron of love and war with such a rage she brought down the heavenly bull out of scorn, how a cult-followed her for her blessings. The next came to Athena, the numbers scattered and then coalesced into the traditional greek. A daughter of a thundergod, only to make her own name in wisdom, and owls, who ended up earning the love of an entire city for her intellect, taking parts of the ones she cursed as her armor and shield.

The last one: Mut, becoming hieroglyphs that broke down into electronic vultures. A motherly creator, yet created by none and a queen of her own volition. How many queens followed her and how many priests followed her, so much so that there was no worship to a god as devoted to her. The rapture even then continued its afterthought, But Aisha needed to pull away, and falling back, as the rapture finished its encore with bits and pieces of additional knowledge, though minor in nature, detailing the intricacies of the histories of the city, and who owned it, and how it evolved to the Stilwater it was today.

Aisha awakened away from the technological sleep and returned back to the physical wake, where the flickering lights stopped their electrical stammers. The librarian, once reading her magazines with no care aside from the silence, was now frantically scampering over to the printer, where dozens of paper shot out from processing of ink. The printer in a simpler term was losing its shit. Aisha could only look in shock as the singing permeated the background noise, now slowly dying without her touch. 

Without her connection.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The nighttime danced in silence. The woods would never dare to creak under a momentous day, but it would respect the joy and wait. Except one loner defied it. In the dark, it was hard to see the figure, wearing a baggy down coat. They had a large duffle bag slung over their shoulders. Dry twigs snapping under their shoes cursed the silence as the black night shone above.

At long last their journey was gonna end, home was on the bounds. This much they had hoped for after traveling this far. It took them a couple of weeks from Arizona to Michigan, sometimes it paid off to work summer jobs and part-time jobs alike. It made buses and trains easier, but for the most part, the punk just winged it. It’s what they always did, what they had to do. But when they would get to Stillwater, they would have to wing it just a little longer. No more moving around, no more saying goodbye to whatever comforting routines they made, they would be finally home in one place.

Yet for some reason, this path feels nostalgic, as though they’ve taken this path once. But how? Even then, this was the place they would stay out of everywhere they’ve inhabited.

It would be nice to stay in one place forever. Perhaps they could find their friend Ji-hoon again. But what would he look like now? Would he even recognize them? Probably not, with their messy hair and their constant use of surgical masks. They looked unrecognizable from the version Ji-hoon grew up with.

And then there was the matter of those powers they started having today. The poor ticket man didn’t deserve to be frightened by a floating ticket being shoved in his face. They didn’t even know they were invisible, they just woke up from a nap when the guy came poking. There was also the matter of spontaneous poofing into a dark grey smoke, only to emerge as a raccoon after they came close to having a goddamn heart attack in the middle of the line at McDonald’s. Though now on the plus side, the nocturnal vision was nice now.

They were now able to save on batteries, which was nice. Their trusty music player was one of their trusty tools for keeping the traveling music, at least it helped keep them calm from poofing invisible or into a raccoon. But it was odd that those powers decided to jumpstart on today of all days, and considering they were 18 at this point, it’s safe to say they’re definitely not a mutant. Though that would have been cool as balls.

The traveler’s train of thought was interrupted when they saw a large wire fence blocking their path to the main road to Stillwater. As if. The traveler walked a couple of steps back before slipping off their duffle bag. With two hands, the traveler spun around before they tossed the duffle bag over the fence. The bag flew in the air and successfully flew above the fence. Now that that was out of the way, they tucked their hair back. They ran towards the fence and right before they would have smashed themselves against it, they jumped, clinging onto the fence. After finding the right wires to grip on, they started climbing up.

It was almost like the wooden wall in the boot camp. There was a confidence, a hopeful optimism with every climb, especially when the traveler reached the top. What a shame for such wonderful confidence, as it was snagged away. What, may one ask? The top peaks of the fence snagging on the traveler’s denim pants, catching them and flipping them over, dangling them over the other side of the fence. The traveler’s golden eyes widened at the one savior in the form of the ripped hole that was forming in the pants. Panicked they tried to reach for it, however, instead reached for the pocket knife in their coat pocket before pulling up half of their upper body. They liked these pants and would rather stitch up what they could later.

Swiping up, they cut the fibers, and for a moment they were in the air before gravity claimed them with a defiant thud as they landed on their back. For a moment the ground seemed comforting, for they were temporarily immobile. But like what life dealt them, soon the traveler had to move on and forced themselves against the pain, but internally cursed life for the pain of loneliness and of the fleeting physicality. 

Though fortune came early, as the fence ended with just a small patch of grass before a concrete path was laid out before them. With their eyes, they could see a large metallic sign with a name that was hard to read at this distance. So grabbing their bag they stepped onto the concrete path to get a better look. 

Upon taking a couple of closer steps, their eyes widened in elation upon one word: Stillwater.

But this too wouldn’t last.

The traveler only had seconds to notice the bright lights in their direction. Seconds to hear the engine of a car traveling down the concrete path that was the road. The traveler’s elated eyes quickly turned to terror and in their possible last action, they only raised their arms to shield themselves.

Then the impact happened, stopping the car as part of the front is crushed. Yet the traveler remained intact, still standing rather than falling as broken bones and squandered dreams.

The traveler opened their eyes and found the car’s front hood completely broken. And there was no scratch on the traveler.

And all they could think of was:

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so a couple of things I gotta tell you guys. Now that I'm done with my finals, this gives me more time to work on the story. However, I am gonna take a couple of days doing research and planning out more of year 0 (I call it this as it is set one year before the events of SR1). This might be difficult because there are details I need to get right so that way the characters feel right.
> 
> Another thing is the traveler in the next half of the story is indeed my Boss. You'll learn more about them later on, and this means the later chapters will be split into parts depending on the perspectives. I can say that for now, it's split into My Boss and Aisha's POVs as they both adjust. Through the Boss's perspective, I'll be able to try and introduce more characters, until I get to Johnny and Aisha (Hopefully it goes well and it'll be smooth sailing into SR1).
> 
> So with that, I'm gonna go nap or planning. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you guys in the next update! Make sure to drink plenty of water and eat well!
> 
> -Kade


	4. When The Wanderer Slips Into Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Promethean burden of the unknown past leads to a discovery.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The traveler stammered in their footing, and panic paralyzed their knees, bringing them to the crashing concrete. They sat on their knees in complete shock as the car hisses with steam and smoke. The front of the car was squashed right down the middle, unfortunate aftermath of another ability. Why now of all the times? But now was a good time, for if it wasn’t the traveler would be dead, on the ground in a pool of blood and vomit.

The car was still, and its headlights nearly blinded them. They struggled to get on their feet, disoriented by the horrid dream in their wake. They could run, that was the traveler’s first instinct: To run away from the unknown they became a part of. But while they racked their mind with decisions, a groan quietly erupted from inside the car. Cars never drove on their own, someone always needed to be behind the wheel.

Cursing their luck they staggered towards the car, still trying to fight their paralyzation of adrenaline. As the traveler approached, they held up an arm hoping to shield their eyes from the damning bright light shining from the car until they arrived at the driver’s side. They pulled on the handle with all they could, until the realization dawned on them that the door was locked. Shit. Though, in the dark up this close, they got a good look at the driver. A dark liquid pooled from his blonde slicked hair, down his head, and onto the steering wheel he was slumped over, but they knew it was blood: what else would have such a distinct copper smell. He looked to be a couple of years older than the traveler.

The traveler balled one of their hands into a fist before striking down hard, with the window shattering into a broken spiderweb and its small shards falling onto the car seat. Their hand reached for the inside of the door, fumbling around until their fingers found the lock, satisfied when they heard a click from the inside. Opening the door with one hand, they used their other hand to undo the man’s seatbelt. After that, the Traveler used both their hands to grab the unconscious man under his ribs and dragged him away from the car. They’d rather not find out how easy it would be to set human flesh aflame.

In the dark and with their vision, it was hard to see where the injuries were. Thinking back to the lights, the traveler dragged the man towards the front of the car, but far enough in case, the car decided to explode. Then again the traveler didn’t know the extent of the damage, but they honestly couldn’t care about that right now. They were counting their stars and garters that this guy was alive. But now, the challenge of sustaining life was now. Trying to sustain the life of this young man was the bigger problem now.

Besides the lights, the traveler could see the blood dripping down in miniature streams from his head down to his chin. But from the look of it, no bones stuck out of places where it was supposed to stick out. The traveler grabbed their duffle bag and unzipped it. They rummaged through it until they pulled out a black flip phone. They were about to dial 911 but they realized something; that the traveler’s voice was still locked. That is the life they left behind, pressure forced their voice to lock. How it would take long to bring that voice back? No matter how hard they tried to mouth the words, the vocals that voiced them couldn’t come out even if this man’s life depended on it. But they couldn’t let him die. So what did the traveler do?

They raised their hand and smacked the man across his face as hard as they could. If anything, it could be chalked up as the smack heard around the world. But it worked as a groan emitted from him. The traveler’s eyes raised in shock that it actually worked. They turned away from him, grabbing something in the bag.

Today was one of the shittiest days Troy Bradshaw had ever lived through. He was hoping to drive to Stilwater in one day after he got his transferral that was also his promotion. He was one of the cops with the top game and a damn good one at that. Yet somehow, he got transferred to a city that could only be described as Sang city, the french word for blood. A city drenched in blood from the time of inception to it becoming its own liquid coffin. So what happened? He overslept on his alarm he set the night prior, and when he finally awoke? A massive headache and an intensive dry sensation burning his throat. Neither of those things left no matter how much painkillers and cough drops he pumped into his body. This continued throughout the entire day, with less success as the pain won the fight via this car crash

And now here he was, lying on the ground as the side of his face stung and his head hurt like hell. Slowly he opened his eyes and awakened. He was greeted by golden eyes and half of their face hidden behind a surgical mask. However, his attention turned to a note held in front of him, in big bold letters:

**ARE YOU OK?**

Troy then saw a hand holding up, and then trailing up to a person. Eventually, his chocolate brown eyes were greeted by piercing gold eyes shadowed in dark circles. Half of the person’s face was concealed by a surgical mask. But those golden eyes haunted Troy, yet they stared directly into his soul. That was when his headaches and the soreness in his throat dissipated. All of this confused Troy badly, that he couldn’t get a word out.

The traveler panicked at his silence. They still held up the paper, but they looked around in the hope of some car passing through. That may be, the traveler could flag down a car and maybe hitch a ride to the hospital. It was terrifying in so many ways. It was severely amplified upon realizing that no one was coming in this death of night. Meaning the Traveler had to come up with something, anything. They tapped the sign again, this time more insistently as they stared at Troy.

Troy was in a daze, and he looked back at the traveler. He wondered why they couldn’t talk and wrote with paper. But then again, he just had his head conked hard. His words were lost in his throat and he had no right to judge. He did his best and nodded, slowly trying to sit up. The traveler took that as an indication of cohesive life and sighed, slinking back. But flipped their paper over to write something else. Troy couldn’t help but stare at them. Jesus this day was confusing. The Traveler then held up the paper.

**Can you call 911?**

The traveler held up their phone. It was still in good shape and with some juice left in it still. Troy read the note and then looked up in confusion. His eyes squinted as he looked between the traveler a couple of times. 

“Uh….yeah,” He answered hesitantly as he reached out for the fliphone. The traveler allowed the flip phone to slip from their hands and into his. The traveler assumed that the man thought this was ridiculous. That the injured one had to be the one to call because the person responsible/fixing this was mute. A part of the traveler felt guilty, the feeling of running started to creep in. But not yet, they repeat. Run when the ambulance comes. 

Troy called 911 and waited for the dial. Normally it would’ve taken a couple of minutes, if not immediately. He looked back at the traveler. They seemed just as shaken as he was, if not more. When the 30-something chain-smoker answered, asking for his emergency, to which he responded without skipping a beat. The chain-smoker seemed to sigh in disappointment but started sending out an ambulance 

“Thanks for lending me your phone,” Troy confessed, offering them a small smile. He wanted to make the best of the situation, even if this was accidental. He looked at the car, its engine had steam pouring out of his old car. He only then did he realize the gravity of what had happened. That the person before him wasn’t human. Though the only thought came to ignition in his head. The thought he blurted aloud. “You some kind of superman or something?”

The traveler looked back at him surprised. That’s what he could distinguish from the widened eyes. They thought for a while, before shrugging. It would’ve been cool if they were indeed a relative of Superman. That would at least answer one. Thought it would’ve led to the concern of who in their family found time to have sex with Superman. Probably better to bury that thought for later. The traveler flipped through some paper and took the time to write before holding it up.

**Not sure.**

This confused Troy even more. “What about a mutant?”

The traveler thought for a moment but shrugged. It could be possible, but mutants existed only in comics, cartoons, and now a movie. They gestured a ‘maybe’. In the far distance, they could hear the sirens. They perked up and looked around in hope. But to their confusion, they barely saw any ambulances on their way from the city. Perhaps the night was playing tricks, that all of this was just a horrid nightmare the traveler was eager to awaken from. Disappointed, they laid on the road.  
Troy chuckled. Strange, that he would chuckle just after being in a car accident. That he’d be sitting next to the person who caused it unintentionally. Troy couldn’t bring a finger to it. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe it was nausea declaring war his throat on his throat. But fragments. Fragments of voices, scenes that added on to nausea as it drained his ears. Gunshots, the Los Carnales. Fiery greyish landscape. Infinite torture.

The Promethean pain of betrayal. 

He’s remembering something, but what it was, Troy had yet to see. But that comes much later. For now, they are only confusing fragments caused by the concussion. The nausea was too much and so he laid down on the ground. In his upside-down gaze, he could see the distant red and blue lights. But the sirens were familiar, he could hear them as the traveler could, but unlike the traveler, he saw the faint red and blue lights in the distance. 

The traveler looked in Troy’s direction. Their eyes lit up in reassurance at the faint lights. They started standing up and packing up their things back into the duffle. It was time to go, and it was taking everything within the Traveler to not poof into a raccoon or turn invisible. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened. Troy looked up at the traveler, the pull to them grew in agony. Pulling in fear they would be gone, this he felt from his deepest core. But what should’ve been his strength at least holding onto their arm, ended in a weakened attempt and gravity reclaiming his limb back to the cold asphalt.

From the corner of their eye, the Traveler saw him reaching out and turned back to him leaning away from his weak grasp. Their head tilted in hastened curiosity. 

“Can I...at least get...your name?” Troy asked, pausing in between to swallow down nausea. He shut his eyes as the headaches returned and his throat burned tenfold. He did his best not to show it. But in the endurance of his pain, he forced his eyes open to look at the traveler one last time. “...Please?”

The traveler’s eyes soften in concern but in confusion. They were hard to read. Undiscernable, but in quickened thought. They turned back to their bag, seemingly ignoring his plea. Troy, somewhat disappointed understood they were strangers. That that was how it would remain. He closed his eyes once more and groaned in discomfort, laying his head back down on the asphalt. The sirens grew closer until they were right in his ears. 

But before the paramedics came from out of the ambulance, Troy felt something pressing in his hands clasped by someone elses’. When he forced his eyes open and trailed to his hands, he found an open note in his hands. It was from the traveler, and it only had one word:

**Jayne.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's been a while, hasn't it? Life got in the way, but I managed to get this done. I've also got a couple of ideas for year 0 (All of the chapters now until otherwise said will take place before the events). But I hope you guys are doing ok. Things got really crazy and we're almost done with the second month. Time flies so faaaaast holy crap. 
> 
> Anyways! Jayne! You guys know the boss's name. Originally this chapter was so different in my notebook, but I'm kinda glad. Some parts of it in the paper don't really make sense, especially while trying to type it out. I had to cut a couple out but I'm gonna save it for the next chapter to come. You'll get to know a little bit more about Jayne before we get back to Aisha, eventually, Jayne and Aisha will meet before Aisha gets to meet Johnny. And originally I wanted to keep referring to Jayne as the traveler, but I thought about it and felt it was better to at least give you their name in the long run.
> 
> I'm gonna try and work on more of life. But before I do, I would like to thank everyone for reading this and leaving all your kudos. They really mean a lot, and they encourage me to keep writing this until it's finished to the end. 
> 
> Hope you guys have a good day wherever you are! Happy late Valentine to all the beautiful chaos goblins! That means you too reader ;D
> 
> -Kade

**Author's Note:**

> Oooooh, Aisha did something!! Will she regret it? Who knows, but it's noon and I'm still in some jammies. I'm gonna fix that but I just wanted to say thank you so much for taking the time to read this. Not sure what will happen but I've got some ideas. I May go back and edit some things but overall super happy with the first chapter.
> 
> Also two fun facts:
> 
> Cariformes is an amalgamation between the vulture and owls' scientific names. And if she was to be voiced, she would be voiced by Shohreh Agdashloo (Go check her out you'll know why if you do).
> 
> That's it for me, Im gonna go now!  
> Hope you're having a good day/night wherever you are!


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